


Once Upon a December

by CantStopImagining



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/F, Pining, Slow Burn, The rest of the s13 squad is mentioned but not enough to tag, despite the title it isn’t a Christmas story, or as slow burn as something with two chapters can be, soft angst, yet another season thirteen reworking aren’t you sick of these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantStopImagining/pseuds/CantStopImagining
Summary: Then, and only then, on that cold night in the middle of December (or was it later than that?), watching Casey in a soft-knit sweater, her hair loose, tossing her head back to laugh animatedly at something Fin was saying (or was it John? She couldn't be sure), her laughter rich and warm, had Alex really considered that what she felt for her was something other than basic attraction.Or, Alex has feelings and doesn’t know how to deal with them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The most ridiculous part of season thirteen is Liv finding Harry Connick Jr. attractive. The second most ridiculous part of season thirteen is that Alex and Casey are both working SVU cases and never interact. As usual, my brain is fixated on this, so here’s yet another story based around the same one season. I hope you enjoy.

It was December. That much, Alex is sure of, because she remembers the string of lights twinkling over their heads, the scent of mulled wine replacing the usual tanker of beer. Not just December, but Christmas, then. It had been the first time she'd seen Casey like that; soft, fuzzy around the edges. She remembers, the creases around her eyes, the way her lips lifted with ease into a wide, broad smile. That had been the moment. Up until then, she'd not so much as thought it. Maybe, in moments when the exhaustion and the stress and the frustration had reached some kind of invisible limit, she'd considered wanting to do something to break the tension. She'd wondered if Casey was just as infuriating in the bedroom. Once, fleetingly, and she'd scolded herself for it afterward, for even so much as letting herself think about it. Somewhere, she'd recognised - much in the same way as she had previously, about many colleagues, though all of them had been men - that Casey was vastly attractive and that sleeping with her would not have been ~the worst~ thing she could do, but, unlike many of those men, she hadn't made any move towards it.

Then, and only then, on that cold night in the middle of December (or was it later than that?), watching Casey in a soft-knit sweater, her hair loose, tossing her head back to laugh animatedly at something Fin was saying (or was it John? She couldn't be sure), her laughter rich and warm, had Alex really considered that what she felt for her was something other than basic attraction.

No, she's getting ahead of herself. She'd smiled, punch drunk and filled with the warmth of being surrounded by good friends, and watched Casey, undistractedly, and yes, she might have thought to herself "huh". Yes it might have registered as unexpected. But it hadn't been that instantaneous. It had only been months later that she'd gone back to that night and identified it as the start. Or at least, a part of the start.

They'd become friends. Eventually. It had a finality about it. Surely it had been inevitable, but Alex had been fighting it. They both had. She didn't want to like her; Casey had taken the job that Alex had loved most of all, the position that she'd molded carefully with her own two hands, working for the department whose work was the most important, and she'd shattered it into tiny pieces. Alex wanted to hate her. She wanted to scream at her for not taking better responsibility for her actions, for tainting the unit's title and being the cause of a long string of non-committed prosecutors who let the squad down. She'd been filled with anger when she'd found out Casey had been offered her job back, that she'd be working just down the hall, taking half of Alex's caseload, and no doubt soiling every case she touched.

But then she'd seen her.

Head in her hands, staring down at her desk. She looked nothing like the Casey she'd known in her early days at the DA's office. Nothing like the Casey who had put her would-be murderer behind bars. In her return, she'd clearly sculpted herself a new image. Gone were the garishly coloured sweaters and the ill-fitting suits, the tomboy accessories, the casual ponytail. Her hair was perfectly styled, her clothes tailored and expensive. And yet, here she was, slumped over, defeated, a kid playing grown up in their mother's clothes. A box of meagre belongings sat in the armchair next to her desk, the walls entirely bare. And any argument Alex had maybe wanted to have with her had fizzled and died on her tongue.

They'd started going for coffee. It started as a means to an end, a place to discuss cases that didn't mean sipping on burnt, weak caffeine, or sitting in stuffy offices. It started as an accident, as a "oh, this is where you go for coffee too?" and then it had become routine. Sometimes, eventually, there wasn't even a case file between them. They'd only stay a short while, but it was progress. Friendship. Sort of. They weren't arguing anymore, anyway. Once she'd settled back in, wasn't so anxious to not put a foot wrong, Casey was a decent lawyer. Better than decent, in fact. A lot of her infuriating qualities seemed to disappear into thin air the more Alex got to know her, the more some kind of attraction to her began to build in her stomach. If Casey felt it too, she was good at hiding it, despite the rumours. Alex began to be sure it was a one-way infatuation, and one that she'd never ever be able to make a move on.

The squad, for some reason or other, tended to treat them as separate entities, despite their occasional shared case, despite the fact they interchanged with some frequency, despite the fact they spent a lot of their own working hours together. If Alex was invited out for a beer after work, it was almost a certainty that Casey hadn’t been. If Casey was looking into something for them, they saw no need to bother Alex with it. So on and so forth. At first it seemed only coincidental; they went out without Casey because it was Alex who was with them, Alex who had closed the case. They didn’t ask Alex about a case Casey was working for them because Alex was busy with a trial. But then it came to a birthday, and Alex was invited and Casey wasn’t, and it started to feel like it was being done on purpose somehow.

Alex doesn’t remember whose birthday, but she does remember the look on Casey’s face when she’d mentioned it, the brief flash of hurt in her eyes that she’d quickly masked with indifference.

“They probably just forgot to mention it,” she’d said, weakly, but there was something about the way she started to move things about on her desk, the way she didn’t quite meet Alex in the eyes, that betrayed her.

“You’re probably right,” Alex had agreed, carefully, “we should go together, then.”

And if Casey had wanted to argue - and judging from the look of her, she had - perhaps the embarrassment of admitting that she thought she wasn’t welcome won out because instead she simply agreed. Privately, Alex was pleased. She also felt like she might need to have a word with Fin - the easiest target - about how childish it was to exclude somebody, as if they were in middle school, but fortunately, showing up together seemed to be enough. The next time, they were both invited.

And then it was December, and Casey was laughing, and Alex was... feeling.

It’s easy to ignore it at first. The new year rolls in with its own new wave of busy-ness, their respective caseloads almost doubling seemingly overnight. It’s not unheard of; domestic violence, rape, and sexual harassment is often linked to alcohol consumption, and everyone knows the holidays is a bad time for it. Still, in some ways, Alex is grateful for the distraction. Christmas had been stressful in a way that was unexpected, and New Years hadn’t been much better. She’d found herself spending extra time at work just to keep busy, relieved when Casey left for Nebraska to spend the holidays with her family. And then feeling guilty for it.

She barely sees her when she gets back, they’re both so busy. They share a smile and a “hello” in the hallway, but they don’t have time for weekly coffee dates, much less anything else. Alex begins to realise that the dull ache she feels in her chest that she had thought was stress induced, might actually be easier explained as an absence. Put simply: she misses Casey. Whether that is as a friend or as... whatever else she might be developing into, doesn’t seem to matter. The point is, she misses her. And once she realises that, she knows she has to do something about it, regardless of whatever else happens.

Still, that’s easier said than done, with their caseloads continuing to swamp them both well into January. On the brief occasions that she has time to swing by Casey’s office, she’s told the redhead isn’t in, or can’t be disturbed. She tries leaving her messages, but the only times Casey’s available, Alex isn’t. And that seems to go on for weeks, until cfinally, they’re forced together by a case that’s too big for either of them to handle alone.

Alex has never liked sharing cases. Prior to sharing SVU with Casey, her only shared cases resulted in her being moved to second chair, with a man taking first, purely because of his gender, not his capabilities. At the start of the previous year, when she’d been asked to share a few cases with Casey, she had been angry. She has her own way of doing things; she isn’t good at sharing. And the last thing she wanted was to babysit somebody who had only just come off suspension.

But Casey has more than proved herself since then. Whilst her natural instinct is to be indignant about sharing cases again, there’s an undercurrent of excitement at getting to spend time with Casey. Plus, they actually make a pretty good team.

Even sharing a case, though, they have to communicate more by phone - and even then, via secretaries or leaving messages - than actually face to face, whichever one of them is available going to liaise with Olivia and the team, the other one having to catch up afterward. It’s a solid week and a half before they meet, in person, at their old favourite coffee shop, to trade notes.

Casey messages to say she’s running late, and Alex settles into a table near the window, a coffee in front of her, untouched, her case notes open in her lap. The coffee house is located close enough to the courts to be convenient, but far enough that it isn’t overrun by fellow attorneys. In fact, aside from Casey, Alex doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone they work with - or oppose - in here. It’s busy, though, and Alex is soon lost in the throng of people, drowning the noise of other customers out as she pores through her notes for the umpteenth time. She’s so absorbed that she misses Casey’s entrance, only noticing she’s not alone once the seat opposite her becomes occupied.

Casey’s dressed smartly in a thick knit grey cardigan over a white blouse, her black pea-coat discarded neatly over the back of the chair, her hands smoothing out a charcoal colored pencil skirt. She smirks as she meets Alex’s eye, and Alex suddenly can’t remember the last time they were so close together, even with a table between them.

“Earth to Alex Cabot,” Casey teases, folding her hands onto the table top.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Casey smiles, “yeah, I got that. Do you ever stop working?”

“I barely have the time, lately,” Alex admits, wryly, “besides, I was under the impression this was a work meeting.”

“It is. A meeting, not a presentation, so you needn’t memorise your notes.”

God, they’ve fallen back into this teasing pattern so easily that it takes Alex by surprise. She doesn’t remember the last time she had this kind of rhythm with a colleague... or, rather, she does, but she’d also been sleeping with him at the time. She’d never in a million years thought that she and Casey would get to this point and yet... here they are.

“Someone got out of the snarky side of bed this morning,” Alex comments, then glances regrettably at her watch, “I’ve only got a half hour, so shall we get started?”

-

They win the case. Of course. And the celebratory drinks are only maybe the third or fourth time they’ve seen each other this year. Alex finds herself spending much of the night watching Casey in her peripheral vision. She isn’t so soft around the edges tonight, not like at Christmas. She’s jittery, insists she can’t stay long, but somehow winds up there until the last people leave. They both do, because Alex can’t quite force herself to leave before Casey does.

Eventually, her conversation partner - Amaro, who has spent much of the night telling her about his wife and daughter, and she’s spent much of it nodding along, pretending not to be distracted - decides its time to leave, and Alex is left with very little excuse to stay. She glances at the bar, and can’t see Casey anymore, frowning as she realises she must have not noticed her leave. Alex sighs. It shouldn’t matter, but she still feels sort of disappointed. She’d thought that Casey would at the very least come over and say goodbye... but then, they’re grown adults, and Casey owes her nothing, so Alex decides she ought to just let it go.

Until Casey sits herself down on the bar stool directly opposite her, that is.

“What happened to ‘just a quick one’?” Alex asks, playfully, eyeing the bottle of beer Casey has just set in front of her.

“I think we both deserve to let our hair down a little,” Casey answers, looking just a little bit sheepish, “besides, I’ve missed this. I feel like it’s been the longest time since we all had something to celebrate.”

“It’s only February. New Years was what, a month ago?”

Casey rolls her eyes, picking absently at the label of her bottle, “if you had time to celebrate the new year, then I didn’t notice because I was too busy. It feels like forever since we just relaxed. All of us.”

Alex might have thought for a second that they were on the same page, but that final sentence confirms that they aren’t anything other than friends. Part of a team. Alcohol makes that disappointment feel heavier than it should, but Alex tries to ignore it. She’s been doing that a lot, lately.

“It is nice to be back here,” she admits, instead, choosing her words carefully, “it’s nice to catch up with everybody. Which sounds stupid because we live in eachother’s pockets most of the time but...”

“...but, we never have time to talk about anything even remotely personal,” Casey finishes, for her.

Alex swallows. Casey may not know it, but she’s hit the nail a little too hard on the head.

“Did you know Fin’s son got engaged?” Casey says, smiling.

“I did, actually. It’s fantastic news.”

With little else left to say on the subject, Casey returns to peeling her beer label. What was it that people used to say about that? That doing that was a sign of sexual frustration? As far as Alex is concerned, it’s little more than a sign of awkward silence, a silence which feels like it’s killing her after hours of making small talk with Detective Amaro. The only person in the room that she’d actually wanted to converse with, and now that she’s finally sitting opposite her, neither of them have anything to say.

“I heard that—“  
“How was—“

They laugh, both cutting off at the same time. It feels like they’re both trying too hard, and that makes Alex feel particularly sad. Conversation had never been like this between them before, why had it suddenly started now? What, they couldn’t even make small talk anymore? Alex sighs, pushing her glasses up into her hair and pinching the bridge of her nose, though she’s still smiling, albeit faintly.

“Why do you look like you’re working on a particularly hard pile of paperwork, not sitting down to a chat with a colleague?”

She looks up at Casey and the smile falters completely, “what do you mean by that?”

“I just... you seem stressed, Alex. And I don’t quite understand why. I thought you wanted to talk to me. You’ve been watching me all night, so I assumed...” she trails off, her attention fixed to the white pulp left behind by the sticker on her bottle. She scratches at it with her thumbnail, as Alex feels her cheeks turn pink.

So, she’d noticed Alex staring. At least she isn’t acting weird about it. Well, as much as Casey ever acted weird, maybe. Alex mulls over her words. She had been watching her, but what was it she wanted to say? What could she say that wouldn’t make her sound vulnerable, a feeling Alex Cabot never liked to admit she was capable of. If she could help it, she liked for people to not realise she had feelings at all.

“Case...” she starts, but her voice already sounds too soft, and she’s almost grateful when she’s immediately cut off by Fin calling them over from the corner booth.

Casey gives her a look that she reads as meaning ‘we’ll talk later’, and they both move back to where the rest of the team - those who are left - are sitting. If it’s coincidental that they both automatically sit as far away from each other as possible, it’s probably better that way.

-

They fall back into the swing of things as soon as their schedules aren’t quite so fit to bursting, but they never do talk about that night. It’s probably better that way, Alex decides, still unsure of what explanation she could possibly offer.

They go for coffee meetings, and share take out, talking about cases whilst picking over Thai food. They bump into each other on the way into the building, one following the other into their office and spending ten minutes talking over a case, or asking for advice. Soon, they don’t even need that as an excuse to spend time together. Alex begins to spend almost as much time in Casey’s office as she does her own. It’s nice, in a way that she isn’t used to, to have a close friend who she sees almost every day.

Of course, they bicker, too. Mostly over stupid things, like whose turn it is to choose a take out place, or whether or not one of their colleagues is sleeping with another one. Occasionally, they have real arguments, but never anything serious. Nothing a cup of coffee and an apology can’t fix. A danish if it’s really serious.

“It’s good to see you two getting along so well,” John Munch comments, one evening where they’ve all been working their asses off and the end of the day is nowhere in sight.

It takes Alex a moment to realise what - who - he means, and then she can’t stop herself from glancing over in the redhead’s direction, albeit across the other side of the squad room.

John gives her one of those knowing smiles of his. It’s another conspiracy to him. Or maybe it’s all his years as a detective that allows him to see what other people can’t.

Then again, there’s not really anything to see.

“I think we are doing a competent job at keeping all of you in line,” Alex responds, teasing her old friend.

He seems to study her for a moment, before deciding what expression to fix to his face. In the end, it’s neutral.

“You know, a lot of us weren’t so sure about her coming back, much less when the alternative was having you full time. But she’s more than proved herself. You two make a surprisingly good team.”

“Well, she’s an excellent lawyer.”

John smiles, “oh yes, you two have that in common.”

“It’s rare to find somebody who is as passionate about the victims, and as determined as she is to reach justice. It’s a lot of... only trying cases which have good odds lately. The DA’s office is becoming more and more about statistics, not empathy.”

“Yes. You have that in common, too,” John agrees. He looks up, and over her shoulder. It’s the look on his face - somewhat conspiratorial, somewhat teasing - that tells Alex who has crossed the room to stand behind her, even before she has a chance to turn and look for herself.

“Are we about done here?” Casey asks, smiling at Alex, her eyes soft, seemingly unawares of John’s expression.

“I think so, yes.”

“I wish I could say the same for us,” Cragen interjects, appearing from his office, “I think it’s going to be a long night. Keep your cellphones by your beds, ladies.”

“Always,” Alex comments, wryly, sharing a look with her fellow ADA.

They pack away their notes, find their jackets from where they’ve been strewn over chairs, and walk out of the station together, though silently. Casey is quickly typing something into her phone, and Alex doesn’t see fit to disturb her, until they almost collide when Casey suddenly draws to a halt in the neck of the car lot.

“Shit, sorry.”

Alex laughs, “it’s okay. Everything alright?”

Knitting her eyebrows together, Casey types some more into her phone, then stuffs it into the pocket of her navy jacket. “Family,” she offers as the only explanation.

They had travelled together, so it makes sense for them to travel back to the courthouse together, too, rather than Alex making Casey take a cab. They find her sedan, and quickly settle in, Alex throwing her attaché onto the backseat, and Casey’s laptop case quickly joining it. Before Alex has even started the car, Casey is back to typing feverishly into her cellphone. Alex leaves her to it, knowing all too well how frustrating family members can be, even if she barely has any of her own these days.

“You’d think, at my age, my mother wouldn’t continue to be up my ass about finding me a husband, but no, she’s worse than ever,” Casey grumbles, tossing her phone into her lap angrily.

Alex rolls her eyes, looking at her for a second before returning her gaze to the road, “yeah, that’s a part of having a mother that I don’t miss.”

“All my siblings are celebrating anniversaries and popping out babies and they just don’t understand how I could possibly not want to do the same. As if me putting my career first is brand new information to them. You know, I think they actually celebrated when I was suspended. They thought I might finally be forced to settle down. I’m so tired of them trying to force me into this little cookie cutter shape of what they believe a woman should be. It’s bad enough getting it in the court room - ‘Miss Novak, I don’t tolerate pant suits in my court room, please wear a skirt tomorrow’ and all that bullshit - but to have it at home as well... as if I didn’t move out fifteen years ago.”

Alex nods, but there isn’t much she can add to the situation. Often, Casey just needs someone to rant to, and she gets that better than most people. But when it’s obvious Casey has finished - and she’s back stabbing at her phone - Alex makes a decision.

“You need a drink,” she says, flicking her turn signal on and moving lanes.

“I do. I really do,” Casey agrees, and Alex continues driving in the other direction from the DA’s office, and towards one of her favourite little bars.

They settle in at a table in the corner, Casey with a tumbler of whiskey, Alex with her token glass of red. Their cellphones are sat on the table top, both of them aware that Cragen could call them in any second. It’s the first time they’ve gone for a drink together, just the two of them, and though that’s hardly a notable milestone, Alex feels it buzzing through her like electricity. They’re sitting close, their legs just barely touching under the table, and she’s taken back to that night in December all over again.

She shakes it off.

They’ve been sitting in a comfortable silence for a little while when Casey suddenly says: “Did I ever tell you I was engaged once?” 

Alex shakes her head.

“Well, I was. I was at law school, and I met this boy who... seemed like absolutely everything to me at the time. He seemed perfect,” she frowns, “we dated a while and when he proposed I thought it was the best thing that could ever happen to me. My parents were ecstatic. I don’t think they’ve ever forgiven me for breaking it off.”

There’s something sad in Casey’s eyes, and Alex wants to touch her, but doesn’t. She wants to ask what happened, but she doesn’t. She’s not sure why. It just doesn’t seem like the right thing to ask.

“I was engaged,” Alex says, after a beat, “I’ve been engaged twice, actually. Once in law school, but I broke it off because I wanted to concentrate on work and I wasn’t sure I was really in love with him, maybe just besotted. And then, when I came back from WITSEC and I wasn’t sure who I was... well, that was definitely a mistake. I think I jumped into it in the hopes that it would give me back some kind of identity. Like being a wife would feel more comfortable than being somebody who didn’t quite know who she was anymore.”

Casey looks at her, eyes flicking away for a second then returning, her gaze searching. Eventually, after what feels like forever but can’t be more than thirty seconds, she reaches across the table and puts her hand over Alex’s.

“I’m glad you didn’t marry him,” she says, and Alex doesn’t question which him, just nods, feeling like her heart is about to break free of her chest.

Between them, just inches away from their joined hands, a cellphone starts to ring, and Casey pulls away to pick it up. Alex misses the contact immediately, slowly withdrawing her own hand into her lap.

“Captain, what can we do for you?” Casey says into the phone, and they both know the moment is over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely meant for this to only be two chapters but this second chapter turned out to be almost double the first, and I haven’t finished it so... I guess I’m splitting it into two. Sorry for any typos - writing on my phone always results in the weirdest auto corrects, and I think I caught them all but can never be sure.

The first time Casey is inside Alex’s apartment, it’s a late spring night, and they’re working on a case that, because it involves a judge, they can’t discuss at the DA’s office. It feels weird, and Alex can’t quite decide whether it’s because Casey feels out of place in this environment, or if it’s because it’s taken this long for her to be here. They’d chosen Alex’s place because it was closer, but she hadn’t missed the look of relief in Casey’s eyes at not playing host.

Alex’s apartment looks out over the city via a huge floor-to-ceiling window in her living space, and she finds Casey distracted by the view more than once over the course of them working. She can’t blame her. It’s the view that sold this place to Alex, who had come back to the city after years of homesickness for all the most obvious parts of New York. She often finds herself getting distracted by it, too.

They’ve worked for three days back to back at this point, burning the candle at both ends, and even as their conversation winds down, Alex is finding it hard not to yawn. Casey looks just as tired. It’s a reasonable suggestion that she stays the night. It’s innocent, fuelled by reason - like most if not all of Alex’s actions - but even so, Alex feels herself blush as the words leave her lips.

“Oh, no, I can just call a cab,” Casey says, sitting upright from where she’s been slouched on the charcoal grey couch. It’s late. The latest they’ve stayed up this week.

“I have a spare room, you wouldn’t be putting me out at all,” Alex tells her.

It’s just an innocent offer so why is Alex’s heart pounding in her chest? Why does even the thought of them sleeping in the same building, in completely separate rooms, feel like such a big leap?

Casey stifles another yawn, “I don’t have anything to wear to bed,” she reasons.

“You can borrow something.” Her stomach tingles, like a dozen butterflies are dancing around in there, and she suddenly feels like a twenty-something year old law student again, giddy with anticipation. Anticipation for what, she’s not sure. She shouldn’t be getting ahead of herself.

“You’re very persuasive, Cabot,” Casey finally says, and she’s got that softness about her again, her eyes glassy, her hair dishevelled. It makes Alex’s heart beat just a little bit faster.

“So I’ve been told.”

-

Casey sleeps in an old flannel night shirt of Alex’s, and a pair of yoga shorts. She comes down to the kitchen the following morning, still dressed in her bedclothes, and in search of coffee. It takes all the self control Alex has not to simply stare at the redhead, standing at her breakfast bar, long, muscled legs seemingly going on forever, the sleeves of Alex’s night shirt rolled up unevenly. She’s beautiful. It’s hard not to think about what it would be like if she was here permanently, if they had shared a bed last night instead of quietly closing parallel doors and sleeping alone.

“There’s coffee in the machine, and help yourself to fruit out of the bowl. Do you want toast?” Alex forces herself to be busy behind the counter, to distract herself from staring.

Casey sits down gingerly on a bar stool, resting her head in her hands. “I don’t normally do breakfast. Coffee would be great though.”

Alex grabs her a cup, and carries the jug out of the machine over to the bar, along with some packets of creamer, and sugar. She isn’t used to having company, and it’s awkward as she turns back to the grill to check on her toast.

“Hope you slept okay?” She asks, over her shoulder.

“Like a log. I think your spare bed is more comfortable than my one at home.”

Alex smiles. Her own bed is a king size with memory foam and it’s her second favourite part of the whole apartment, the first being the view. She can’t quite blink the image of Casey sharing it with her out of her head.

“Do you think things will have calmed down at work?” Casey asks, wrapping her hands around her steaming coffee cup.

“I doubt it,” Alex says, fishing her toast out from the grill and putting it onto a plate. She takes a small jar of honey from a selection of jars, and a knife, and joins Casey at the breakfast bar. “I think we’re going to be walking on eggshells for a while.”

“At least I woke up to no missed calls, no voicemails, no urgent messages.”

Alex nods, spreading honey thickly onto her toast, “yes, me too. It was a nice surprise.”

They sit in silence for a while, Alex munching on toast, and then a grapefruit; Casey drinking her coffee, and eventually pouring herself a second cup. They’re both exhausted. Alex glances sideways at her colleague and notices her stifling a yawn more than once.

“What do you think ought to be our plan of action for today?” Casey eventually asks.

It’s probably still not safe for them to work on this particular case at the DA’s office, especially after all the evidence that their respective offices had been bugged, but then Alex can hardly be sure her apartment is safe, either. This isn’t the first time she’s got involved with a case that’s bigger than she can handle, but she feels confident having Casey by her side. She’s come to realise that there are some things she’d trust Casey with that she wouldn’t even trust their detectives with.

“I’m not sure,” Alex admits, after too long has passed, “any suggestions?”

-

The first time she visits Casey’s apartment, she doesn’t even see inside of it.

It’s the third day in a row that Casey has called out sick, and though Alex is loathe to admit it, she’s worried about her. Not only that, but she misses her. She’s never so much as taken one sick day before, so Alex uses that as an (albeit flimsy) excuse to go over to her apartment, to make sure she’s okay.

She’s not particularly surprised by the neighbourhood Casey lives in. She knows she’s had the same apartment for most of her time at the DA’s office, both before and after suspension, so she isn’t expecting anything particularly lavish. What she finds is a neat and tidy apartment block, a plain front entrance, and a buzzer system that lists the names of everybody in the building. She presses the button with Casey’s name beside it, and holds her breath. What if Casey is too unwell to reach the receiver?

After a long moment of static, in which Alex debates pressing the buzzer again, or simply turning around and going back home, Casey finally answers. Even her voice sounds exhausted.

“Hey, it’s Alex. Cabot.” She chastises herself almost immediately - of course Casey knows which Alex. Surely she’d recognise her voice.

“Alex. What are you doing here?”

“Can I come up?” She asks, rubbing her hands together. It’s cold for March, and she regrets not bringing gloves with her.

“Uh... sure.”

There’s a loud buzz, followed by a click, and then the door swings open automatically. A warm gush of air greets Alex as she steps inside the building, and starts up the stairs, eyeing the doors for Casey’s apartment number. She needn’t keep checking, as its soon abundantly clear which door leads to the apartment she wants; Casey’s face is peeking out from it. Her skin looks almost translucent, her eyes hollow and dark. She’s definitely not been skiving work. Even from the small amount of her visible, Alex can tell she’s unwell.

“Hi,” Alex greets, expecting the door to open further. It doesn’t.

“What are you doing here?” Casey asks, her voice dry and croaky. It hadn’t sounded that unusual over the intercom.

“I wanted to check in on you. I heard you were sick. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. It’s a cold. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Her tone seems... dark. Is she annoyed at Alex for prying? It sure sounds like it. Or maybe she’s just feeling awful and doesn’t want anybody to see her. That would also make sense.

“Okay, well.... I just wanted to make sure. If you need anything... you know where I am,” she says, awkwardly.

Casey nods, starting to close the door, but Alex stops her, gripping the edge of the wood tight enough for it to not close on her fingers.

“I miss you,” she says, surprising herself.

From the look on Casey’s face, it surprises her too. She smiles, softly, then nods, “I’ll be back soon. Thanks for checking in, Alex.”

And then she closes the door.

-

Casey comes back to work still looking unwell - pale and thin, though she’s always pale, and maybe it’s just the cut of her dress that’s making her look thinner than usual - but insisting she’s fine. She’s quiet, though. Alex doesn’t get to see all that much of her, but when she stops in to bring her lunch her second day back, something just doesn’t quite seem right. Her eyes aren’t as bright as usual, and her smile seems forced. Still, she seems grateful for the food, and invites Alex to stay and eat with her. 

Her office is more of a mess than usual, a large cardboard box of files by the end of Casey’s couch, her desk covered in papers. Alex asks if she’s working a big case, but Casey shakes her head. So maybe it isn’t work related? She resists probing for more information, can sense that the redhead doesn’t want to share with her, and tries to just enjoy the twenty minutes they can spend together before she has to go back to work.

She also tries not to stare as Casey barely eats the bagel that Alex has previously seen her consume in minutes, declaring it the best sandwich in New York City. There’s definitely still something wrong.

“So, the Hansen case... how’s that coming along?” Alex asks, once she can take the silence between them no longer.

Casey shrugs, “fine. All set for the trial. It’s not for a couple of weeks.”

Her answer is blunt, blunter than Alex is used to. She had thought that they were close enough friends that this kind of awkward conversation was behind them, but now she isn’t so sure. She almost gets the impression that Casey resents having her here. She hasn’t been this closed off since way back when they first started working together, when everything between them felt like an uphill struggle.

It isn’t a feeling that Alex has missed.

“Well, I should go,” Alex says, after the silence between them has stretched to an uncomfortable length. She balls up the wrapper from her bagel, notices that Casey still has more than half of hers left.

“Mmm,” Casey hums, not looking at her, but picking at her food, “see you later.”

If Alex hovers in the doorway a little too long then it’s because she’s concerned. It’s not the pain that’s bubbling in her chest at Casey’s easy dismissal.

-

They go on like this for weeks, barely talking, Alex getting the impression Casey is purposely avoiding her. There’s not much else explanation for how the redhead slips out of a room the second Alex steps into it, the tight smiles, the fact she never quite meets her eye. It’s uncomfortable. Alex tries, as she does with everything else, to maintain professionalism, to brush off the hurt that this sudden change in their friendship has given her, but it’s near impossible. She’s always been good at turning off feelings, but somehow Casey is different.

If people around them notice - and Alex would expect them to, given that most of them are detectives - they don’t mention anything, and that in itself is frustrating. Alex begins to wonder if she’s made up the closeness the two of them had shared only a month ago. But no, she still has the flannel shirt Casey wore to bed, set aside just in case. She still has one of Casey’s coffee cups in her office, identifiable easily by the soft ball motif on the side, despite its owner having not stepped foot in the room in weeks. So she didn’t dream it.

Maybe she’s overreacting to the situation, though. She’s a grown adult, she should be able to handle getting the cold shoulder for a few weeks. It’s probably not personal. Casey is a pretty private person; she doesn’t owe Alex anything, least of all an explanation.

And yet, Alex can’t stop herself from feeling hurt.

Late one evening, when most people have already left, and the lights of the building are mostly off, Alex is still beavering away in her office. In honesty, she doesn’t have much to do. She’s stopping herself from going home because the idea of a cold, empty apartment is somehow even worse than the thought of pretending to work. She knows she’ll head off, eventually; she always does. But she’s putting it off for as long as possible.

The cursor on her computer screen has been flashing for what feels like an hour, indicating that she still hasn’t typed anything onto the end of the report that’s been open all evening. In actuality, it’s finished. It doesn’t need adding to. But she pretends all the same. Sliding her glasses into her hair, Alex rubs her eyes. She’s been staring at the screen for too long, especially now that it’s dark, the only light other than the glow of her screen a small table lamp that’s bulb probably needs replacing.

The knock on her door makes her jump. For an instance, she thinks she might have dreamt it, that maybe she fell asleep and elbowed the table and it sounded like the door. But she gets up and checks, anyway.

She hadn’t imagined it.

Casey looks exhausted. She looks like she’s been crying, if Alex is honest, her eyes red rimmed and sunken, her make up smudged, soft. The expression on her face is something like surprise, which makes no sense. What did she expect to find at Alex’s door? Seeing her makes Alex’s heart break just a little bit more.

“Hi,” Casey says, still looking unsure.

“It’s late, I didn’t think you’d still be here.” But even as Alex says it, she knows it isn’t true. If there’s one thing they have in common, its an inability to leave at a normal time.

“I could say the same. I saw your light… thought you must have just left it on.”

“Nope.” Alex hovers in the doorway, before stepping back, opening the door wide. An open invitation. Casey hesitates for a moment, before coming in.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Casey says, standing just inside the door, “I’m not proud of how I’ve treated you lately.”

Swallowing a hard lump that’s formed in the back of her throat, Alex shakes her head, aiming for casual dismissal but missing the mark. “It’s okay,” she tells her, gently touching the redhead’s elbow. She thinks she ought to sit, but Casey has barely moved from the doorway, so she doesn’t.

“It’s not. Few people actually take the time to check in on me, and when they do, I push them away. That isn’t fair on you, Alex. At the very least, I owe you an explanation.”

Alex is torn between wanting to understand, and wanting to forget that any of this has even happened. She just wants things to go back to normal. Still, if Casey’s willing to open up to her, she’s not about to push her away. How would that make her look, after everything Casey has just told her about other people? 

“You don’t owe me anything at all. But if you want to tell me - if you think it’ll help - then of course I’ll listen.”

Casey exhales, running her fingers through the front of her hair, and biting her lip. “Can we go for a drive?”

“Sure.”

 

There’s a slight chill to the air as they walk out of the dark, quiet building, and our into the street where it’s louder and brighter in contrast, the city creeping along as it always does, regardless of time. They walk around to the parking lot, and Alex heads for her own car without asking. She can see the breath dancing around in front of Casey’s mouth as she waits for her to unlock, her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

The car is warmer. Alex pushes all the heating dials up, waits until the frost has cleared from the windows, before reversing out of the lot. As she glances to her side, she sees Casey worrying her bottom lip with her teeth again, her eyes looking haunted. Whatever she is about to tell Alex, she can’t help but feel like this is going to be a turning point in their friendship, that they’re never going to be able to go back to how they were before, after this moment.

“Is it okay if I just start talking?” Casey asks, her voice soft.

Alex nods. She thinks that if she’s distracted by driving, she might not be quite such an intimidating audience. This way, Casey doesn’t have to meet her eye.

“Remember I told you about the boy who I met at Harvard? The one who asked me to marry him?”

Again, Alex nods. Of course she remembers. She remembers every conversation they’ve ever had.

“His name was Charlie,” Casey murmurs, sounding small. “I didn’t tell you the full story because the last time that I let my guard down and told somebody about him, they used it against me later on, and I’m not good at talking about feelings, anyway.”

She glances at Casey and the redhead is smiling softly when she meets her eyes. She looks away.

“We met when I was a freshman. I’d never been with anybody before him, and to be honest, to begin with I wasn’t interested, but he was relentless, and charming, and funny, and eventually, I agreed to going out on a date with him. And then another date, and another. He proposed senior year - we had half a term left of law school, and I was overwhelmed with everything, the prospect of being an adult, thrust out into the world, alone... I said yes because I was happy and because I couldn’t imagine myself being without him, and maybe a little because it was what was expected of me. But mostly because I loved him, and I knew he loved me. I knew he’d never do anything to hurt me.

“When I came to Manhattan and got my first job, we were living together. I’d known for a long time that he had something he was keeping from me - appointments he wouldn’t tell me about, things hidden in our apartment - but... part of me felt like I was keeping a secret from him too, so I didn’t pry. He struggled to find work right away. When he started acting... different I thought it was because he was stressed. I knew he was struggling to come to terms with the fact that I was supporting us both, that I’d found the perfect job straight out of law school, and he hadn’t. He was always a man’s man... he didn’t like the idea of not being good enough, not being able to provide for me. And of course we both had the wedding looming over us, and debt from student loans... it’s enough for anybody to find stressful.

“What I didn’t know was that it was more than that. I didn’t know that he’d come off his meds because I didn’t know he had meds to begin with. He didn’t tell me anything, I just watched as his moods got worse and worse, until one night when I got home from work, he was so agitated that I couldn’t calm him down. I’d never seen him like that before. Sure, he’d picked fights with me, occasionally, but that night it was like nothing I could say was helping. He started yelling at me, accusing me of sleeping around, of seeing somebody else behind his back. None of it was true, but it didn’t matter that I denied it. It was... it was the first time he hit me.”

Alex has been driving on auto pilot and doesn’t realise where she’s driven to until she pulls to a stop outside her apartment building. She cuts the engine, but doesn’t look at Casey, not wanting to stop her from talking, not wanting to see her face, her voice alone proof that she’s crying. Instead, they stay in the car.

“It wasn’t hard enough to bruise, and he snapped out of it right after it happened. For a little while, things were better. He seemed to go back to who he was before we left law school. I should have known that there was something more to it, but I think at that point, I was just hoping that it had been a fluke. I didn’t want to believe that I could be so wrong about somebody. He felt so guilty about what he’d done... he came clean. He told me that he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia, that he’d gone off his meds. He promised not to do it again. I felt betrayed that he hadn’t told me before then, but I also felt relieved. Knowing there was a reason for it... I really believed he would stay on his meds and that we’d be fine.

“Of course, we weren’t. It wasn’t very long before he came off them again. I confronted him, and he lied to my face, promising me that he was still taking them. The second time I brought it up, he hit me so hard I fell, and hit my head against the kitchen counter. I know I should have left, then, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t him, it was his illness. I went to hospital with broken ribs, with a fractured cheek bone, with concussions... every time, I found some way of explaining it away. Until, one night, someone called the police. I’d started working for SVU by then. I used my badge to get the police to leave. And then... I told Charlie he had to leave, too,”

“Oh, Casey,” Alex breathes, reaching over to touch her arm, gently. 

Casey flinches slightly, like maybe she’s forgotten who she’s talking to, forgotten that there’s anybody else there at all, but then she relaxes, turning her face to Alex’s. Her eyes are swimming with tears, her cheeks glistening with the trail of them. Alex wants to wipe them away, but doesn’t.

“I threw him out, with no job, nowhere to go... I gave him back his ring, told him to pawn it, use the money to get himself out of debt... whatever he needed. I told him I never wanted to see him again, and he begged me to let him stay, promising he’d do better, he’d get help. I’d heard it all before, and as much as I wanted to believe he would change, I knew he wouldn’t. He tried calling me, but I refused to take his calls. I changed the locks on my apartment door. I tried to pretend like he’d never been there. I thought he’d move on. Let me go. But he didn’t,” she starts to sob, and Alex moves her hand into her hair, cupping her face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks, wiping the tears away. Casey swallows, closing her eyes and trying to will herself to stop crying, but the flood gates are open and they won’t close.

“What happened?” Alex asks, softly, wishing there wasn’t a gear stick between them, wishing she could pull her close. Wishing none of this had happened to her in the first place.

“He ended up on the streets. I don’t know that he was homeless the whole time... I only know that that’s where they found him. He still had the... the ring, like he thought I’d... I’d come back to him eventually. They made me ID his b-body. He had my business card on him,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, before opening her eyes to meet Alex’s, “it was five years ago, that he died, but it still... I still think about it constantly, how If I hadn’t thrown him out he wouldn’t... he might not have...”

Alex shakes her head, brushing strands of limp red hair that have escaped from Casey’s ponytail back behind her ears, before letting go. “It might have been you who had died, then.”

“I know,” Casey says, quietly, “I know that. I just... I’m sorry for... god, all of this. I just wanted you to understand why I’ve been so distant. It hit me pretty hard this year, between it being five years, and the fact that it would have been...” she trails off, shakes her head, “I handled it the way I handle most things - by running away from the problem, and drinking myself into oblivion in the hopes it would stop hurting. That’s why when you showed up at my apartment...”

“Right, I’m not surprised you didn’t let me in.”

Casey chuckles, though it’s a bitter sound, not the same rhythmic laughter that makes Alex’s heart flutter in her chest. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want you smelling the distillery my apartment had turned into.”

They sit in silence for a moment. Alex fears that even breathing might disrupt the delicate web they’ve woven between them, that if she says anything else, it might ruin the moment, might scare Casey away. She lets the information settle in her stomach, this awful thing that Casey has been holding onto, tight, by herself, not wanting anybody else to know. She’s so much stronger than other people give her the credit for. Alex has known that a long while, but this just cements the thought in her head.

“Thank you for telling me,” she eventually says, Casey lifting her eyes to meet hers. Even in the dark, the familiar glint of gold in amongst her hazel-green eyes makes Alex’s heart beat just a little faster. Despite the distance between their seats, they really are sitting pretty close. She can see the rise and fall of Casey’s chest with every breath she takes, the tears still glittering on her eyelashes as she stares at Alex. She’s chewing her lip, again

Alex is overwhelmed with the need to kiss her. But she knows this isn’t the right time. Or place.

“Do you mind if we go inside?” Casey says, a second later, eyes drifting to the apartment outside her window, and then back at Alex.

“Sure. I’m sorry - I didn’t really mean to drive here. I just didn’t know where else to go.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was definitely meant to be the end but I split this into a final chapter and an epilogue. This chapter is why the rating is what it is.

They leave the car, and head into the apartment building, past the doorman who smiles and wishes them a good night, and up the stairs that lead to Alex’s floor. Its late. Too late for them to be going to Alex’s apartment without Casey staying being an option, but she tries not to think about that. She unlocks the front door, and follows Casey in, the redhead drawn to the view from the window once again. She stands there, gazing out at the city, still dressed in her pea coat and heels, as Alex discards her own coat and shoes in the closet, turns the thermostat up. She ponders over whether to offer Casey a drink. After everything the redhead has told her, she thinks she might need a strong one, but then again, maybe that’s exactly what she doesn’t need.

She’s still weighing up the decision when Casey’s voice drags her out of her thoughts.

“Alex, can I ask you a question?”

She’s standing with her back to the window, now, and Alex hasn’t turned the main light on, so she’s little more than a silhouette, arms crossed, the lights of the buildings outside reflecting off her hair.

Alex bobs her head as a response. Yes.

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

The question comes seemingly out of nowhere, but Alex knows the answer without having to think it over, not even for a second. She thinks this must be some kind of trick, though, so she doesn’t answer.

“I’m not asking because I’m lonely, or because I’m feeling vulnerable, or because I feel guilty about how I’ve made things between us,” Casey continues, and there’s something in her voice that sounds like forced-bravery, or maybe, just maybe, relief at letting herself finally ask. Alex isn’t sure. “I’m asking, because I think you do, and I think we’ve both been lying to ourselves long enough.”

Alex swallows. Her throat is suddenly dry, her stomach jittery. Casey moves towards her, and she closes the gap between them, meeting her halfway. The look in Casey’s eyes tells her that this isn’t a joke, that she isn’t teasing her, that she means what she’s saying. It’s not about being lonely, or vulnerable, or any other feeling of uncertainty. Maybe, just maybe, Casey has felt the same way as her all along, she’s just been better at keeping her cards hidden.

“Yes,” Alex breathes, letting go of every thought and feeling and instinct that tells her this isn’t a good idea, “very much, yes.”

When they kiss, it’s not the hungry, raw kiss that Alex expects. It’s gentle, unsure. Casey’s lips are soft against hers, and she tastes like coffee. She kisses like somebody who is used to having their heart broken, uncertain, careful. Alex retreats slightly, brushing her fingers over Casey’s cheek, her touch feather-light. She expects to see some kind of fear in Casey’s eyes, but all she finds there is the haze of desire, her eyes soft and wide. Certainty. It’s Casey who draws her back in for a second kiss, lifting her hands into Alex’s hair and tugging her closer. They melt together, the kiss deepening. Alex can feel herself coming undone, the need to be closer, a closeness that isn’t achievable, making her whole body ache with want. She slides a hand down to Casey’s side, underneath her coat and her sweater, brushing her fingers over soft skin, counting along her ribs, her hand coming to rest across the small of her back, gentle, testing. She doesn’t want to pull away enough to speak, doesn’t trust her voice, but she hopes that her touch, her kiss, conveys what she’s too afraid to say; that she doesn’t just want to sleep with her: she wants to be with her, to make sure nobody ever hurts her ever again. That she’s fallen in love with her.

She doesn’t notice that Casey’s undressing her until she’s already being shed of her blouse, the fabric being pushed back off her shoulders, taking her by surprise. Alex sighs into Casey’s mouth, the hand that’s still in her hair stroking her face, her other hand bunching the fabric of her sweater, pushing it up gently to reveal more skin. 

 

It’s Casey who pulls back, her eyes searching Alex’s for a moment. She moves her hands down the blonde’s body, resting one palm over her heart. Her thumb strokes over the raised white skin above her breast, faded but still an obvious scar. She bends her head, and kisses it, and it takes all of Alex’s willpower not to moan, despite how insignificant a part of her it is. The fact Casey has sought it out, this one part of her that she’s still insecure of, makes her fall in love all over again.

She burns under Casey’s scrutiny, the redhead’s eyes studying her closely for a moment, fingers dancing along the lines of her collarbone, tracing her throat, the muscles contracting as Alex swallows. Her touch lingers along Alex’s jawline, and Alex dips her head to kiss Casey’s palm. Drawing her close again, Casey finds her lips with her own, and her mouth is hot, sure of itself now, her teeth making brief contact with Alex’s bottom lip, her hands continuing to roam the blonde’s body.

Somehow, Casey is shed of her coat, her sweater bunched up in a knot in one of Alex’s hands, the other hand moving softly up and down her back. Casey’s hands find her breasts, cupping one gently through the lace of Alex’s bra, and Alex sighs into her mouth, desperate for more contact, but not wanting to rush. Her own hands find their way to the hem of Casey’s skirt, but she pulls back before she can slide it all the way up, studies the redhead for a moment, Casey’s face wide open and vulnerable.

“You sure?” Alex breathes, barely able to get the words out. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Casey denies her now, but she knows she has to ask.

Casey nods, pulling her back into the kiss, her own hands shifting to Alex’s pants zipper. It’s painful, how slow she slides the metal zipper down, all the while, Alex’s hands pushing Casey’s skirt up to bunch around her hips, finally breaking their languid, soft kiss to tug the sweater off over her head. There’s an urgency behind their movements, but at the same time, a slowness that says ‘we don’t need to rush this, we have all the time in the world’ that is foreign to Alex, that makes her whole body buzz with an unfamiliar electricity. Much as she wants to touch Casey, wants to bury herself in the redhead, wants to watch her come undone around her... it’s not about that. She’s happy taking her time, breathing in every inch of this miraculous, brave woman who has already bared her soul to her, and now her body too.

As quickly as she’s made this observation, Casey undoes it. She drags Alex’s pants down her legs, her mouth leaving the blonde’s to travel downwards. Alex lets out a sharp gasp of a moan as Casey’s lips brush over the fabric of her underwear, kissing the dip of her stomach, before drawing back to look at her. There’s uncertainty in her eyes, but also determination. As much as Alex wants to take control, she knows she has to give this to her, that Casey has to initiate this. Casey has to be certain.

It seems that she is. Casey presses a kiss to her thigh, to her hip bone, and finally, agonisingly slow, reaches for the edges of Alex’s underwear, dragging them down her legs. In every scenario that she might have thought of - and she doesn’t want to admit that she has thought of it, but of course she has - she had never imagined it would happen like this. But she knows better than to try and take this away from Casey. Her eyes flicker closed as Casey’s mouth covers her, her tongue tentative at first, before delving deeper. Alex is aware that she’s making noises, but they’re incoherent, her fingers moving to Casey’s hair, pulling strands out from her already dishevelled ponytail as she rakes her fingers through, trying to be gentle, but finding she has little control of herself.

Her grip only tightens as Casey’s mouth explores further, nudging her legs apart, Alex unable to resist. She’s not even sure how she’s still standing, only that Casey’s hands around her knees are the only thing that’s stopping them from buckling completely. She’s vaguely aware of their surroundings, of the fact they haven’t even moved away from the window, but only for a moment, and then Casey changes pace, her mouth finding a sweet spot, and she isn’t aware of anything at all besides the myriad of sensations soaring through her body, Casey’s name spilling from her, sounding faintly like a prayer.

Casey’s touch - fingers gently rubbing against the backs of her knees, though her grip is tight enough to keep Alex tethered - guides her back to earth again. Any bravado she might have had appears to be gone, though, as she stares up at Alex, looking unsure. It’s laughable, really, how she can have any doubts after that, but somehow, Alex isn’t surprised when she softly asks if it was okay.

“Perfect,” Alex breathes, coaxing the redhead into standing, and brushing her hair out of her face, cupping her cheek, her jaw, “just perfect.”

She kisses her, then, swallowing any objection Casey might have, any more insecurities melting between them. Her hands float to Casey’s waist, gentle, the sense of urgency from before having dissipated. She doesn’t want to rush. She means to speak, but each time she pulls away, Casey’s mouth finds hers again, and she can’t say that she minds.

Eventually, though, they stop for breath, her forehead resting against Casey’s, their noses just brushing. It’s the reprieve she needed.

“Let’s go to bed,” she murmurs.

Casey tilts her head, moving far enough away that she can look at Alex without going cross-eyed. She stares at her like she’s a puzzle she’s trying to figure out, a piece of evidence that doesn’t make sense. Alex takes her hands, lifts one to her lips, then the other. She draws Casey close again, kissing her gently, their hands still joined.

“Come to bed with me,” she says again, between kisses, and Casey sighs into her mouth. Alex fingers the zipper of her skirt, twisted and still slightly bunched at her hips, drags it down one-handed.

“I want to,” Casey says, gently stopping Alex from finishing undressing her, “I just... I’m scared of waking up tomorrow and none of this being real.”

Alex frowns. She squeezes the hand that’s still holding Casey’s. She brushes her finger tips over Casey’s lips, slightly swollen from all their hard work. She doesn’t know how else to tell her that this isn’t going to melt away over night, that it’s been a slow burn in her, starting months ago, and that one night together isn’t going to erase it.

It’s too early to say what she really means. What she feels.

“It’s real to me,” she says, instead.

She recognised the expression on Casey’s face. She knows the look of somebody who has handed their whole heart over to somebody only to have it broken into pieces, even if Casey hadn’t already trusted her with the truth about Charlie. She knows she can’t promise not to hurt her, no matter how much she wants to. Physically, yes. But she knows her own capabilities when it comes to breaking a heart.

“Do you trust me?” She asks, instead.

Casey doesn’t even have to think about it, her head bobbing in an automatic nod before the question has had time to sink in.

Something stirs inside of Alex. She blinks it away.

“Good. Come to bed.”

This time, Casey does as she’s told.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite the epilogue I planned to write, but I think this ties the story up nicely in a festive bow (oops I lied when I said it wasn’t a Christmas story, I guess). Thank you again for your patience and of course, Happy Holidays.

It’s the first night out Alex has been able to go to since becoming (temporary) bureau chief. There’s still a niggling voice in the back of her head telling her nobody wants to go for drinks with their boss, but she reminds herself that these are her friends, not just her colleagues. Besides, she’d been told under no uncertain terms that she was to come to Joe’s, or face the consequences. And she could only begin to imagine the consequences. Her mouth turns up into a soft smile as she thinks of Casey, hands on her hips, a stern expression on her face, wavering only a little as Alex rolled her eyes, making some comment about her being the boss, not the other way around.

In their relationship, she knows Casey makes a lot of the rules.

“It’s Christmas, Alex,” Casey had said, once the blonde tried to object, moving towards her and flattening out the collar of her suit jacket.

She’d fixed her gaze on Casey, her face fully serious. “It’s December 10th.”

Still, she hadn’t really needed persuading. At the end of the day, it’s an easy choice between a mountain of paperwork, and spending the evening catching up with the people she loves most. It’s been a while. She hasn’t even been able to set aside enough time to spend with Casey lately, let alone anybody else.

There’s a sense of deja vu as she steps into the dimly lit bar, searching the room for people she knows, and finally finding them at a corner booth, the usual pitcher of beer replaced by mulled wines and ciders. Amongst the thrum of detectives, Casey is animatedly talking, telling some kind of story, and Alex takes a moment to drink the moment in before making her presence known. Casey has changed out of her work suit, instead wearing a grey and white fairisle sweater out of Alex’s closet, her hair loose. Her face is flushed from the enthusiastic way she’s talking, her make-up softly smudged already. A wave of affection washes over Alex. This is the Casey she fell in love with first of all. She moves closer to the table, and she recognises the exact moment that Casey spots her because her eyes light up. It’s only a second - a warm, genuine smile Casey’s unable to suppress, before she turns back to her friends - and it isn’t the kiss that Alex wishes she could greet her with, but for now it’s enough.

“Second year in a row," Munch comments, bobbing his head in her direction as he passes her a glass filled with steaming liquid, “careful, Cabot, we might start thinking you actually like us.”

“Glad you could make it, Al,” Olivia adds, her voice soft,. Alex can’t help but notice that she looks exhausted. She doesn’t remember the last time she had time to check in with her old friend, and is disappointed in herself for it.

“Me too,” she agrees, forcing herself to not glance in the direction of her favourite redhead, despite the rich sound of her laugh interrupting their conversation.

She’s not even really sure why they haven’t told anybody. Alex has known Olivia for long enough to know that she wouldn’t think anything of it, that Fin and Munch would be happy for them. The whole team, she knows well enough to know they would keep a lid on it if she asked them to. Nick is sitting with his arm around Amanda’s waist, and nobody’s mentioning it, so why shouldn’t she and Casey be the same? What’s different about their relationship?

This has always been her problem, Alex realises. She’s too caught up in what everybody else thinks of her. Is she ashamed of who she is? No. So, is she ashamed of being in love with someone as warm and selfless and smart and beautiful and strong as Casey? Of course not. Yet this voice in the back of her head tells her that she has to be discreet, that it’s better for everybody if she keep it secret.

The voice sounds suspiciously like her father’s.

Casey meets her eye, and the corner of her mouth twitches into a smile, though her eyes are questioning. They haven’t really talked about telling people. Casey is firmly in the closet - Alex can’t blame her for being wary with how the DA’s office is - and Alex is... well, Alex, so it makes sense that they haven’t discussed it. It’s been a mutual understanding.

“Alex?”

Fin’s voice drags her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t realised she’d zoned out, but now the whole table are staring at her expectantly, and she has no idea why.

“Hmmm?” She hums, shaking her head, “it’s been a long day,” she lies. Well, it isn’t a lie, maybe just an extension of the truth. All days have been long, lately.

“You want some more wine?” Nick asks, holding the pitcher out to her.

“I think maybe she’s had enough,” Casey teases, from across the table.

She shakes her head before anybody can make a joke about old age - and she can see one is forming on the tip of John’s tongue - draining what’s left of her glass and holding it out for a refill. Over the years, she’s become an expert at fitting back into the gaps she’s left behind, shifting in and out of this group of people more times than she cares to count. But perhaps it isn’t so easy anymore. She’s not as young as she once was.

Casey smiles at her, then, and it’s like the years roll off of her, irrelevant after all.

-

She’d expected to spend the night pasted to Casey’s side, but of course, of the people in the room, Casey’s the one she sees most of, and the one she least needs to catch up with. Still, her attention is often dragged away from her own conversation by the sound of Casey’s laugh, or the bright look in her eyes as she listens attentively to one of the detectives. Twice, Alex has to ask her own conversation partner to repeat themselves. She’s about to go for a third when she notices the look on Olivia’s face and thinks better of it. The detective’s dark eyes are warm but there’s a hint, just a tiny hint of— and in an instant, Alex knows. Alex knows she knows. And then Olivia knows that she knows she knows. And it’s actually a lot more simple than Alex ever expected it would be.

“How long?” Alex asks.

“Isn’t that my line of inquiry?” Olivia shoots back, but there’s something else in her expression, something besides the smug satisfaction of knowing a secret. Something that doesn’t look happy.

Alex sighs.

“How long have you known?”

“I’m a detective, Alex. And besides, I know you, remember? I have to say, I was surprised, though.”

“Let’s not pretend it’s the first time I’ve mixed business with pleasure,” Alex says, wryly, “I may not have the reputation of Jack McCoy but only because I’m more discreet.”

Olivia laughs at that. Alex knows, without being able to see her own face, the pinched expression she’s wearing. She hates to be made fun of, even by one of her oldest friends.

“I just wouldn’t have expected her to be your type. She’s not quite... as sophisticated as the lovers you usually go for.”

“Nor were you,” Alex remarks in a low voice.

The dark look Olivia gives her is almost worth it. The word “lovers” hangs there ominously between them, and it leaves a bitter taste in Alex’s throat.

“I don’t trust her,” Olivia finally says, “I don’t trust she won’t break your heart.”

“With all due respect, you don’t know her like I do. And it isn’t any of your business who I do or don’t invite into my bedroom. I thought you knew me better than to question my judgement over something like this.”

“Until Robert, maybe I did,” Olivia says, bluntly, and Alex winces. “You’ve changed since WITSEC, Al.”

“You think my judgement is impaired?”

She gives Olivia a moment to think that over, glancing across from where they’re sat at the bar, her eyes seeking Casey out without her even really meaning them to. They make eye contact, and Casey looks down and away, smiling.

“I think,” Olivia pauses, “that I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, and I don’t want it to end the same way it did last time. If she makes you happy, I’m not going to stand in your way, you know that. I just worry that...” She trails off.

Alex softens. “I know, Liv. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, it’s just... it’s complicated. But I am happy. And that’s all that you need to know about it.”

-

It comes time to leave, the last dregs of customers already fading out from the old bar, Casey having already remarked more than once that they have to be up early, but all of them reluctant to move. Alex has her coat on, is hovering awkwardly at door, unsure of whether she ought to wait for Casey or not.

When the redhead appears next to her, she realises she’s been zoning out again.

“Ready to head out?” Casey asks her, the faintest of smiles on her wine-smudged lips. She’s never looked more kissable, in Alex’s opinion, but she resists.

“I am,” Alex tells her, sinking her hands into the pockets of her pea coat to further prevent her temptations. “Are you?”

Casey nods. They step out of the bar together, the cold wind of the street hitting them as they move along the sidewalk, pausing at a gap in the parked cars to hail a cab. Alex watches Casey as she fumbles in her purse for her cellphone. Her hair is being swept messily around her head by the wind, the tails of her coat flapping behind her, her face hidden in shadow, her mouth with its smooth lines and soft, full lips turned down into a frown. Alex swallows, her mouth suddenly dry, but her heart overwhelmingly full.

“I know the blasted thing is in here somewhere,” she mumbles, continuing to search.

“Case?” Alex hums, and the redhead tilts her head up to look at her, her eyes bright, her cheeks and the tip of her nose pink tinted.

Alex moves towards her, a gentle hand stopping the one buried in her leather purse, the other moving into silky, wind-swept hair, soft under her fingers. She kisses Casey gently, to begin with, and then deeper, tugging Casey as close as she can possibly get her. She kisses her like she’s starved, like she needs the redhead to breath. Like they aren’t fifty feet away from a group of detectives who know nothing of their relationship.

When she pulls away, she almost expects a standing ovation, but finds the sidewalk behind them empty.

“What was that for?” Casey asks, smiling.

The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she blinks them away. It’s too soon, she thinks. Not too soon to know, but too soon anyway.

“Merry Christmas,” she says, instead, squeezing Casey’s fingers.

Casey rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling, “Merry December 10th, Alex,” she says, and let’s go of her hand, “now can we concentrate on going home? It’s fucking freezing out here.”


End file.
